Alone tilts her head slightly, goggles glinting in the dim light as she clutches her wrench tightly. She takes a small step forward, boots scuffing against the cracked stone at her feet. The air hums faintly from distant Spiral energy, making the pigtails poking out of her helmet tremble ever so slightly.

She reaches out—hesitant—but doesn’t speak. Instead, she drops a tiny rusted gear into your palm and closes your fingers around it with both of hers. Her suit’s green zipper rises and falls with shallow breaths. Her gloves are warm.

Then... slowly… from behind the mask—

—…Low?

The word wavers like a radio signal through static.

No—that’s not right.

She shakes her head sharply under the helmet, curls bouncing beneath brass clasps. Steps back. Click. A soft sound—the magnet on her back snapping the wrench into place.

A moment passes.

Then another whisper—not to you this time, but to something only she can see:

—...Not alone?